This year, I’ll have the opportunity to read an old favorite for my Contemporary British Novel class: none other than the infamous Harry Potter. I’m sure all of my classmates are just as excited as I am to encounter our beloved boy wizard once again; but the reason I am most eager to re-read the piece is tied to a story of personal didactic and growth.
The first time I truly understood the meaning of banned books was at the tender age of 9, while attending a parochial school in a small Massachusetts town. I was thrown from a world of uninhibited classroom activity to a tidy Protestant church that actually had uniforms and (*gasp!*) desks.
While it was not easy for me to orient myself with solemn morning prayer and addressing teachers by “sir” and “ma’am,” I quickly grew to love this challenging environment – cooking and catechism classes only added to my excitement. The best part was my fourth and fifth grade instructors, whose determination and patience actually allowed them to put up with my afternoon antics and direct my creativity toward scholastic endeavors. My most influential teacher and mentor, Miss H, entered one of my stories in an HP young writer’s competition (I won a computer game and was glued to the family desktop for a month) and suggested that I produce and direct a stage-play for our class (to date, one of my most cherished accomplishments). I am forever grateful for the world of passion and artistry that was revealed to me during those elementary years.
Still, there were difficulties to this pastoral lifestyle as well. I was sent to the principal’s office one day for the streaks of black nail polish that remained from my Halloween costume; I just remember sitting there with a bottle of acetone and a nose-bleed, tears running down my face – what a Monday.
During one morning chapel session, we were warned of the potential dangers of Harry Potter tales and Pokemon cards. I was flooded by confusion, bordering on embarrassment; only a few days before, I brought in Chamber of Secrets as my free-reading book and my teacher – whose sagacity rivaled Dumbledore in sound, spirit and beard – said nothing of it. Despite his tolerance, that morning’s sermon got the best of me. I promptly hid the book in the bottom of my cubby, sneaking it out that afternoon only to shovel it straight into my backpack and head for home.
We all have a lot of choices to make in life, and I believe that reading is both a privilege and a decision. I am so lucky to have access to a bounty of literature, and on that day in fourth grade, I realized the full impact of this freedom.
A lot of noise has recently been made about Paulo Coelho, author of The Alchemist, and whether or not his books were banned in Iran. The situation was murky for a number of days, but out of this commotion, Coelho decided to release free Farsi translations of his novels online.
Just as my college professor will be giving me a chance to relive a pivotal moment of youth, or as a notable author distributes his work in a foreign language via blog, we can all take steps to create opportunities for others to enjoy literary independence. Check out Scholastic’s Global Literacy Campaign to learn about ways in which you can help bring the gift of reading to children in your community.
book turtle 